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| The
field that once was Crush, Texas is now occupied by cows, but a recently replaced
historical marker south of West, Texas tells the story of one of the most bizarre
publicity stunts of all time. |
| | The
site as it appeared in February of 2004
TE Photo |
It
was a slow day at the office and George Crush, a passenger agent for the Katy
railroad was thinking about train wrecks and how they never failed to draw a crowd.
George knew that even the slightest collision would have people coming from far
and near to see derailments, explosions and steam-scalded victims.
If
accidents drew crowds of hundreds, how many would come to a deliberate, heavily
publicized crash? Agent Crush bet the numbers would be in the thousands, but no
one in Texas in the 1890s was stupid enough to take the bet. They knew better.
George ran the idea up the MKT flagpole and his superiors saluted it. The
railroad laid a spur off their main tracks north of Waco in September of 1896.
A four mile spur with a grandstand, press offices, a bandstand and a "depot" marked
Crush, Texas.
The "Monster Crash" was advertised for months in advance
and newspapers kept readers updated on preparations. Two obsolete engines were
given a reprieve from the scrap furnaces and reconditioned to the point where
they could build up a good head of steam. Painted in contrasting red and green,
and pulling boxcars covered in advertising, the locomotives were like aged gladiators
painted with cosmetics for one final battle where both would lose. They were displayed
in various towns before the event and people all across Texas were hoping they
would live long enough to witness the event.
The
half-town, half-carnival that became Crush, Texas was set up with restaurants,
game booths and "lemonade" stands. Some of the latter even sold real lemonade!
The railroad had offered two dollar round-trip tickets from anywhere in the
state and the first of thirty-three excursion trains began arriving at dawn on
September 15, 1896. Some of the trains arrived with passengers riding al fresco
- on top of the cars. Approximately 40,000 men, women and children were given
until late afternoon to spend their money and be subjected to the speeches of
politicians, the warnings of prophets and the light fingers of pickpockets.
The few trees on the site had boys hanging in them like noisy fruit. Children
sat on their father's shoulders and ladies were politely asked to remove their
hats. At 5:00 p.m. the engines nosed toward each other and "shook hands" like
prizefighters before backing into position.
Agent Crush, riding a borrowed
white horse, threw down a white hat as a signal and got out of the way. The engines
headed toward one another while the crowd roared their approval over the locomotive's
death-whistles. |
| | The
Event Unfolding
Photo Courtesy: The Texas Collection, Baylor University |
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The Crash
Photo Courtesy The Texas Collection, Baylor University |
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The Aftermath
Photo Courtesy The Texas Collection, Baylor University |
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Railroad
officials had taken the precaution of asking their best mechanics about the chances
of the two boilers exploding. The officials were reassured that it would never
happen. But, the mechanics were wrong and the boilers exploded on impact, sending
shrapnel into the crowd and killing several spectators. A hot bolt was sent through
the eye of a Waco photographer (who miraculously survived).
Those not
carried away by ambulance or hearse went home to brag to their friends and relatives
that couldn't scrape together the two-dollar fare. Railroad cranes removed the
big iron and souvenir hunters took away the smaller pieces. By nightfall, all
that was left was mud, red and green chunks of iron and pools of used lemonade.
The Katy did have some claims by irate relatives of the victims, but refunds,
cash payments and lifetime passes took care of them. A lifetime railroad pass
in the 1890s was like winning the lottery. George Crush was fired (with a wink)
and was rehired as soon as the press moved on to other disasters. Some accounts
say that he was given a bonus.
Although
the "town" only existed for a day, the event was certainly remembered by the local
residents. This photo shows two boys in 1935 - with the photo identified as being
"near Crush, Texas." |
| | Two
Boys playing instruments in their yard indentified as "near Crush, Texas
Photo Courtesy West, Texas Library and Museum |
| | An
iron nut that may or may not have been present on Sept. 16th 1896.
TE
Photo, March, 2004 |
Ragtime
composer Scott Joplin commemorated the event a few years later with "The
Great Crush Collision." It wasn't one of his most memorable tunes and it was left
out of the soundtrack for The Sting. Fortunately, though, contemporary composer,
singer and Last Texas Troubadour Brian Burns, was inspired enough by the
event to record his song about the collision in 2001.
Mr. Burns unique
specialty is blending Texas history and music. Playing to schools (where he says
the students inspire him as much as he inspires them), events and venues, he leaves
behind enthusiastic audiences and a rapidly growing following.
The following
lyrics are provided by permission of Mr. Burns:
The
Crash At Crush - Lyric
>
Brian Burns - © 2001 - Brian Burns Music (BMI)
See also : The
Crash at Crush by Bob Bowman ("All Things Historical" Column) |
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Location
: A few miles South of West, Texas (North of Waco,
South of Hillsboro) on the I-35
service road (East side of the highway)
The recently replaced Historical
Marker
TE Photo, February 2004 |
Crash
at Crush Forum Subject:
Crash at Crush General
Passenger Agent William 'Bill' Crush, of the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad --
the Katy -- was the first to stage a collision between locomotives, but far from
the last. For several years prior to the Crash at Crush, Broadway shows had been
simulating railroad crashes on stage, together with sparks, fire, and steam. A
man known as 'Head-on Joe' staged collisions at fairs from a few weeks after the
Crush show until the 1920s. The last deliberately-staged collision of steam locomotives
was filmed for the movie Denver & Rio Grande, when two former D&RGW narrow-gauge
locomotives were crashed on former D&RGW (by then Durango & Silverton) narrow-gauge
tracks in Colorado. One boiler exploded, so it's fortunate the crash was filmed
with telephoto lenses. - C. F. Eckhardt, May 10, 2006 |
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